


we are shining in the rising sun

by adelaidebabe (soulless_slut)



Series: noah/audrey collection [1]
Category: Scream (TV)
Genre: Communication, Fix-It, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7454644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulless_slut/pseuds/adelaidebabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“‘Why are you here, Audrey?’ Noah eventually asks, just as quiet as she had been.</p><p>There’s a flash of hurt, but he doesn’t let himself focus on it. ‘I needed to see you,’ she says.</p><p>‘You did.’</p><p>She pauses and glances away from him. ‘Yeah,’ she says. She looks around his room before noticing his pillow. She must remember what she walked in on because she says, ‘I need to know if you’re okay.’</p><p>He nods. ‘Yeah.’</p><p>‘Noah.’”<br/>--<br/>aka my fix-it fic for noah and audrey's relationship</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are shining in the rising sun

**Author's Note:**

> this is unbeta'd; all mistakes are my own because i'm terrible at catching them. tags are hard and noah/audrey is my life right now. i just really needed to write a fix-it fic before canon tuesday night decides to drive them further apart. for the sake of this fic, what audrey told noah is the full truth. title is from i love you by woodkid.

I AM …

Lying on his stomach on his bed, Noah stares at the words before reading the rest of the page.

BECAUSE …

I CAN FIX THIS BY …

He stares and rereads all of it before scribbling down his first thought.

I AM … an idiot.

BECAUSE … I’m an idiot.

I CAN FIX THIS BY … not being an idiot.

Noah sighs and rests his head on the open page. He doesn’t think this was exactly what his therapist meant when she gave him this book. He kind of wants to rip the page out so he doesn’t have to deal with her looks and comments about “not taking this seriously,” but he thinks she’d somehow know that a page was missing.

He flips quickly through the rest of the book, making sure that every page is the same. It is.

Noah sighs again. He rips the page out.

At least with the page missing he can lie about it if she somehow knows. If she saw it, thought, she’d probably talk to his mom (despite, you know, not being allowed to) and he can’t deal with hurting her anymore. He’s only going to therapy for her to being with.

He still thinks it’s a terrible idea. But when his mom cries…Noah’s weak. So therapy it is.

“Hey,” a voice says, and Noah quickly closes the book (not realizing he had been staring blankly at it) and shoves it under his pillow. He looks up and toward his doorway.

Audrey’s standing there, looking at him like…well, like he’s an idiot. Which he is. “Whatcha hiding there, Mr. Subtlety?”

“Nothing,” he answers, much too quickly. He scoots himself around so he’s sitting upright, legs hanging off his bed. He clears his throat. “What can I do for you….” He doesn’t mean to, but he trails off, trying to think of some retaliation nickname for her. Nothing comes to him. So he leaves it, wishing like hell that things still weren’t so awkward.

But they are. And probably will be for a long time—on his end at least. Audrey continually seems to act like there’s nothing going on. But Noah, always able to see through her (or so he used to think), knows she’s just trying to not let the awkwardness affect them. Well. He thinks. He’s still not sure if he actually knows her as much as he used to think.

She looks at him for a moment, and Noah thinks her expression is sad. But what does he know?

“Your mom let me up,” Audrey says. She pauses and then scratches the back of her head. “She said I’m not allowed to keep you, though. You’ve got…homework?”

He knows why she’s unsure; homework usually wouldn’t keep his best friend from him. Unfortunately, his mom seems to think that if all she lets Noah do is the stupid therapy book, he’ll magically do it. It’s only been a few minutes since he actually opened it, but that didn't work out too well. So he’s gonna give himself a break.

Noah shakes his head. “Nope, nah. Just Mom being, you know, a mom. I’m good for a couple.” He knows it sounds awkward to end there, but he doesn’t know how long Audrey was planning to stay to begin with. Before, before Piper, before everyone dying, before everything, it used to be hours. Now, though. Now he’s lucky if he sees her for an hour before she needs to go.

He doesn’t think she’s avoiding him. But what does he know?

Honestly, though, he’s kind of avoiding her. Which is why when they generally see each other, it’s at school or Audrey stopping by his house. Part of it is because it’s awkward. The other part is because he’s finding it incredibly hard to keep his therapy a secret. He has no idea how Audrey managed to keep the whole I-brought-Piper-to-Lakewood thing from him.

He’s used to telling her everything. He feels all out of sorts.

Audrey nods. She steps a little farther into his room and seems to actually look around for the first time. She looks surprised, a little shocked. “Where’s your podcast equipment?” she asks, before turning to look at the corkboard on his wall. “Where’s your murder board?” She looks back at him, and he swears he sees betrayal in her eyes. Which doesn’t really make sense.

He’s not sure what to tell her. He still has it, of course. Well, he still has his podcast equipment. The murder board, though, that’s gone. Long gone. Noah coughs. “Probably some landfill by now, I’m not sure any of it was recyclable,” he says. He slides off his bed to walk over to his desk, begins shuffling pages, not really paying attention to what he’s doing. He just knows that he needs to be doing something with his hands. “My, uh, podcast equipment is in boxes in the basement. Thought I’d give myself a break for a little bit.” He’s lying. He knows he’s lying and though it’s not fair he feels like Audrey should know he’s lying, but then she makes a face. Noah doesn’t think she knows he’s lying.

“I told you not to get rid of that,” she says quietly.

He laughs. It’s bitter and it’s harsh, and he wishes it wasn’t but he doesn’t want to be anywhere near that night. “It’s not gone because of you,” Noah says. He’s still lying, but now it’s not a full lie, at least. “It was time.”

He gives up shuffling papers. It’s pointless and it just makes him feel more like an idiot. When he looks up, Audrey’s closer. She on the other side of his desk, on the side he’s on. Involuntarily, he thinks that this is the closest she’s been, physically, since that night.

Noah’s heart dives. He swallows.

Audrey’s looking at him. He can’t stand the silence but he doesn’t know what to say, and she isn’t acting like she’s going to be talking any time soon.

The quiet continues and Noah feels like he’s going to combust. He thinks that Audrey’s trying to wait him out, that if she waits long enough he’ll tell her what’s going on. But he won’t. He’s not going to. When he agreed to therapy, he knew that he’d be keeping it a secret. Even from Audrey.

He knows that part of why he’s keeping it from Audrey is because of his own bitterness and resentment. He hates himself for it, but he can’t help it.

“Why are you here, Audrey?” Noah eventually asks, just as quiet as she had been.

There’s a flash of hurt, but he doesn’t let himself focus on it. “I needed to see you,” she says.

“You did.”

She pauses and glances away from him. “Yeah,” she says. She looks around his room before noticing his pillow. She must remember what she walked in on because she says, “I need to know if you’re okay.”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Noah.”

He doesn’t say anything. He won’t even look at her now; he’s so close to telling her that he’s biting the inside of his cheek, trying to stop himself from blurting it out.

Audrey sighs. “I’m sorry, Noah.” Her hand twitches by her side, like she was about to move it and then aborted.

Noah aches. He knows she’s going to be leaving. He can see it in her face, he can tell by her apology. She doesn’t even say goodbye before she turns around and walks around his desk, and out his bedroom door.

—

I AM … angry.

BECAUSE … my best friend lied to me.

I CAN FIX THIS BY … getting over it.

—

His therapist still tells him that she doesn’t feel like he’s taking the assignment seriously enough.

Which is funny because Noah spent hours just thinking up that simple response he wrote.

After she reads it, she stares at it for a bit. Maybe she rereads it. Noah doesn’t know. All he knows is that his hour is counting down and the more time she spends looking at the stupid book, the less time he’s forced to say something to her to get her off his back.

Eventually, she says, “I don’t think you’re angry, Noah.”

He fights the urge to laugh and tries to look intrigued instead.

“I think you’re upset and turning to anger because it’s more comfortable. I think you’re hurt.”

Noah bites the inside of his cheek. He refuses to say anything until the hour is up and he can leave.

He doesn’t say anything to his mom when he gets home; just goes straight to his room and shoves the book under his pillow again. It’s a stupid assignment. He doesn’t want to deal with it anymore.

When his mom calls him down for dinner, he says he’s not hungry, and spends that time instead scrolling through Facebook and trying not to feel alone. He goes to sleep early.

—

He’s woken up by pounding on his bedroom door. Disoriented, Noah looks at his alarm clock and is instantly on the alert because it’s only a little after seven. Why would someone be banging on his bedroom door at seven in the morning if it wasn’t an emergency?

He scrambles out of bed, temporarily getting caught in the blankets, and rushes to the door, pulling it open mid-knock.

It’s not his mother, like he thought.

It’s Audrey. Her face is pinched and distressed, and, without thinking, Noah pulls her into hug. She tucks her head under his chin and he closes his eyes, holding her. Sometimes he forgets how small she is, physically.

He has a feeling about what’s wrong. If he’s right, she’s not going to want to talk about it.

They stand there, in his doorway, for a while. It’s the first time they’ve hugged since that night. Noah feels something inside him settle.

When Audrey relinquishes her hold on Noah, she drags her hands down her face. She quickly passes him into his room, leaving Noah to shut the bedroom door. When he turns back to face his bed, Audrey is already lying down on it, her knees curled up to her chest.

This is familiar. They have a routine set in place, a routine they perfected long before the Lakewood Murders, that Noah immediately starts going through; finding the movie, putting it in his laptop, moving his laptop to face the bed, turning up the volume. After it’s all set and he presses play, he gets on his bed and crawls behind Audrey so he can hold her. When he puts his arm around her, she grabs his hand and holds it tightly.

The hold doesn’t waver throughout the movie.

The movies finishes, but Noah doesn’t move to get up, even with the credits rolling. He squeezes Audrey’s hand and then clears his throat. “Does my mom know you’re here or did you let yourself in?”

Audrey makes a choked sound that could be a laugh. “I think even if I had let myself in that she would have figured out I was here when there was someone loudly beating on your door.”

Noah shrugs as best he can. “I don’t know, she’s kind of a heavy sleeper,” he says.

Now Audrey does laugh. “Okay, we both know that’s not true.”

The credits end and the movie goes back to the start up screen. They both stare at it for a while, silent.

Eventually, Noah asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I know you know.” She pauses. “But we do need to talk.”

Despite his stomach plummeting and his stress levels rising, he knows she’s right. They do. Because he misses her. He’s tired of feeling awkward around his best friend.

So he nods. “I know.”

He doesn’t know if she’s going to start or if he’s supposed to start. He considers waiting, considers seeing if she’s going to say something. But he has something that he wants to tell her—that he’s wanted to tell her—and so if they’re going to finally, hopefully, talk, now’s the time.

“My mom’s been having me go to therapy,” he says.

Audrey doesn’t say anything for a few, and then: “Since when?”

“Since a day after the, uh, deathbed confessions. She came into my room and I forgot to cover up my murder board.”

He can feel Audrey wince. “Did she yell?”

“No. Cried. Which is much worse.”

She nods.

“I think she’s been holding it in for a while. You know, after my dad….” Noah swallows. “And then everything last year. I think she was relieved when it was over and seeing the board just…hit her.” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “She told me that Jake’s death was an isolated incident and that I needed to stop thinking about last year. And then suggested therapy.”

“You agreed?” Audrey asks.

Noah rolls his eyes, even though she can’t see him. “When Martha Foster is crying, one does not simply refuse.”

He can’t see her, but he just knows that Audrey smiles at that. It’s something he’s said many times before, though with a little variation: “When Martha Foster is yelling—” “When Martha Foster is cleaning—”.

There’s silence again before she finally says, “I’m sorry, Noah. About not telling you last year, or about Jake.” She breathes in. “And I’m sorry I fake kidnapped us.”

“Well, actually,” Noah interjects. “You real kidnapped me. You fake kidnapped yourself.”

Audrey huffs a breath. “Whatever. The moral of the story is…I’m sorry.”

She hasn’t said, “I’m sorry I indirectly made you confess feelings you may have,” but he thinks he hears it underneath her words.

Audrey probably wants to leave it at that, apologies said and friendship reinforced. But Noah needs to ask her, “Why didn’t you tell me?” and so he does. He hadn’t really been waiting for an apology. He just wants to understand why she didn’t tell him to begin with and therefore make the apology necessary.

Audrey’s quiet.

The silence starts making his skin feel weird, so he talks. “We tell each other everything, Rachel notwithstanding.” He pauses. “I think what I really want to know is…why? Why did you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”

Audrey turns so she’s lying on her back instead of her side. Noah sits up a little, resting his head on his hand so he can see her. He can tell by her face that she’s thinking. He doesn’t know if she’s thinking of her answer, or if she already knows and is trying to figure out how to convey it.

So he waits. He wants her to know that he’s here and he’s ready.

Audrey breathes out slowly. “I was scared. Even though Piper told me it wasn’t her…I don’t think I fully believed her. I said I did. I wanted to.” She pauses and starts wringing her hands where they lay on her stomach. “And then it actually was her. I couldn’t tell anyone after that, especially after that. Because I asked Piper to come here and then I didn’t tell anyone that I was worried about her.”

She stops, and her hands are shaking now. Noah lifts his hand to cover them; they’re cold, which is surprising with how much Audrey’s been moving them.

“And,” she continues, “I couldn’t tell you because I knew you’d feel like a shitty friend. I’d tell you that I was angry and alone, and you’d blame yourself and I couldn’t let you.”

“But I can’t let you blame yourself, either,” Noah says.

Audrey smiles, but it’s sad. “I also knew I didn’t deserve that. Or what you said the other night. Or this.”

“Of course you do.” Noah squeezes Audrey’s hands. “You’re a—”

“Victim. Yeah.”

Noah begins brushing his thumb over one of Audrey’s hands. “Audrey Jensen,” he says in the most serious voice he can muster. “You are not the bad guy in this scenario. You were sad and ostracized; you reached out for someone to understand, someone who didn’t know you. It’s not your fault that she used it as an excuse to kill people. And it’s not okay that whoever else knows is using that to torture you.”

Audrey doesn’t say anything for a long while. Noah continues brushing his thumb along her hand. “I didn’t even know she was Brandon James’s kid,” she whispers.

“I believe you,” Noah says. “You were angry at Emma, too, right? But I don’t think you would want to intentionally hurt her.”

She nods, pursing her lips. The next breath she takes in hitches, but he knows she won’t cry. He’s only seen Audrey cry once and that was because he was crying first. He waits, just wanting to be a comforting presence.

Eventually, Audrey puffs up her cheeks and lets out the air quickly. “Okay, I need to sit up because this is killing my back,” she says.

Noah smiles and retracts his hand, repositioning himself so that Audrey can sit up, hanging her feet over the edge of his bed. He settles back down next to her and wraps his arm around her shoulders. She leans into it. More silence before she mumbles, “Thanks.”

He nods. “No thanks needed, Bi-Curious.”

She elbows him, laughing. “Shut up, Virgin.” There’s a moment as her laughing quiets. “So,” she says, dragging the word out. “I wasn’t kidding when I said Zoe likes you. You gonna ask her out again?”

“I don’t know,” Noah says, considering. “Things haven’t really gone well the last few times we’ve talked. I think the whole kissing-me-kissing-you thing really turned her off.”

“Oh come on. Only the best relationships start with polyamory.”

Noah makes a face. “I think that was more _ménage-à-trois_ than polyamory.”

Audrey nods. “Well, it was the drugs.”

“It was the drugs,” he concedes.

She bumps her shoulder into him, which is a little awkward with his arm around her shoulders. “Seriously, Noah. Ask her out again.”

“Maybe,” he says, but he knows there’s a good chance he will. Getting his best friend back was number one on the list of things he wants to do, but getting over that kiss is number two. And it seems like number one is ready to be checked off.

“Oh, hey,” Audrey says suddenly. “What was the book you were hiding from me?”

Noah groans. “No. I told you about going to therapy, I’m not telling you any more.”

“What’s the book, Noah?”

He shakes his head and mimes zipping his lips closed.

Audrey points a finger under his chin. “I demand to know the secrets of this book, Noah Foster.”

“They’re secrets coming with me to my grave, Audrey Jensen.”

She squints her eyes at him, considering. “Not if I can find the book first.” And then she slides off his bed to do that, first stopping over at his book shelf.

He reaches under his pillow for the book and, when he’s sure Audrey isn’t looking, grabs it and makes a run for the door. He’s slightly delayed due to having to open it.

Audrey hears him and spins around. “Dammit, Foster,” she says, laughing and beginning to chase after him.

Noah feels the need to rectify his earlier thought. Number one is most definitely ready to be checked off.

—

I AM … happy and okay.

BECAUSE … I talked it out.

I CAN FIX THIS BY … doing nothing because there’s nothing to fix.

**Author's Note:**

>   * in my headcanon, audrey is nonbinary demigirl. when she's pounding on noah's door and they cuddle, it's because she's suffering from dysphoria (noah is the only person who knows; her pronouns are still she/her).
>   * i thought it would be funny for noah's mom's name to be martha because of superman's mom and batman's mom.
>   * noah's dad is dead #whoops
>   * there's other little facts about this fic in my head, don't be afraid to ask
>   * so long as canon doesn't fuck with this too bad, i want this be part of a series because i would like to write them getting together eventually
>   * i'm on tumblr @ [fosterjensen](http://fosterjensen.tumblr.com/)
> 



End file.
